


True to yourself

by FleurLennon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Multi, Rainbows, moody Alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleurLennon/pseuds/FleurLennon
Summary: Guys,somehow, the beginning of the second chapter got erased (it's online now).I don't know why that happened. I'm sorry. The storyline must've seemed really stupid?It's still a mid/during episodes project, but less moody now. I feel like season 2b has upped the game!We've made it to the third and final chapter!Thank you SO MUCH for reading :-)!-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------





	1. Chapter 1

He had fucked up (again).

Or so he thought.

Anyway.

Maybe it wasn’t too late yet.

But Magnus’s face when he threw Alec out had spoken for itself. “Being thrown out speaks for itself,” muttered Alec, and let himself sink down the wall by his window. He closed the curtains, and finally felt alone. His head was buzzing. A lot had happened in the last few days. He’d nearly assisted in Magnus’s execution, and today he’d featured in his persecution. Even before today, the Valentine-incident was something that they should have long since talked about, but Magnus hadn’t been ready yet.

And then all the dead shadowhunters had turned up.

Azazel’s curse. Of course, his rational side figured he could not have known, and that was probably true – he could not have known, not really. But it dampened his mood how he felt he should have. He dearly wished he had trusted his gut for Magnus’s sake. Didn’t Isabelle always tell him to be less repressed? Then again – _Valentine_. He loathed Valentine, and he hadn’t wanted to blindly, foolishly fall for his tricks. Alec’s sexuality was out in the open since his ‘wedding’, and in particular conservative shadowhunters didn’t even try to hide their disrespect. People talked at the Institute and in Idris, and if it weren’t for his otherwise pretty much spotless integrity, seriousness, his fighting abilities, his legal knowledge and compliance, the Inquisitor would, in all probability, never even have considered to name him head. Not that she had decided to name him head. In the light of recent events, she’d chosen Jace. _Jace_ had named him head, Jace had taken a stand. He was behind him, and so was Izzy. And with Izzy came a considerable part of the downworld.

He reminded himself to focus. So, generally speaking, yes, it would have been unlikely for Valentine to know about his and Magnus’s secrets and the lucky charm, but impossible? No. About that, Jace had been right. Annoyingly, Clary’s father usually was ten steps ahead of them. And because he was still in the process of fighting the stigma and thereby redefining his position as ‘the gay Lightwood boy with his infamous warlock boyfriend’, lately more than ever he had to think a couple of times before deviating from any superior’s orders. Deviating from rules and orders wasn’t his thing, anyway. He could and swore to himself he would in the future, but there must needs be an extremely good reason. Tracking downworlders – they were going insane. That would have gone too far. Their fear should have caused them to move closer together, but instead, it seemed some were ready to accept another war. Were they asking for it? Uprising 2.0?

Nevertheless, he hadn’t been able to spear Magnus unfathomable pain. The warlock almost never was at a loss for words, but this time they escaped his emotions. Magnus would not talk much to him about it. He had hidden it well, but Alec could sense he hadn’t been too willing to meet with him this afternoon, and thanks to Alec’s stupidity, he’d ended up throwing him out. Alec ought to have trusted Magnus, plain and simple. He was an idiot. Afterwards, he hadn’t handed the hair over for investigation. He had told the Inquisitor she was sounding just like Valentine instead. And because that was true, it had felt good.

Magnus was unwell since the incident with Azazel, but he said he was fine, bored, needed a change – he evaded the topic. And although Alec knew what it was like to be unable to phrase your own feelings when all they did was overwhelm you, confuse you, and hurt, it was not something he had expected from Magnus. Which was stupid, since he was just as human, partially only, but Magnus was the sort of downworlder who could not deny their human nature, even though it might be simply because they did not always want to. Yeah, Magnus was the sort of downworlder willing to love a closeted shadowhunter like himself. What good had actually come of it for him? Very little, not to mention today’s DNA-sample in a paper bag. Magnus deserved so much better, much much better than any of this. He deserved a boyfriend who trusted him, a boyfriend who trusted himself. Alec had good instincts. Why didn’t he act on them?

It was not just rare, it was unprecedented for Magnus not to reach out to Alec for the rest of the day, and Alec sincerely didn’t know how to interpret the warlock’s absolute silence. "Maybe it means you're a total fuck-up, duh."

Indeed, his rational self was the one who had continuously let him down in the first place. And it was not just that he had fucked up, the overall situation had been fucked up. It still _was_ fucked up. Even more than before, if that was possible. Really, somehow their situation was _always_ fucked up. And even though they had been torturing him, even though the Clave had never exactly treated him with kindness or at least respect, Magnus had still been able to shove all that aside and had tried to re-captivate Valentine the immediate second he got the chance. What must have disappointed him earlier was not that he believed Alec was suspecting he’d had anything to do with the shadowhunter killings. No. Magnus was disappointed because Alec, “by the fucking wholy order of the Clave,” would go and approach him for his hair, urging Magnus not to be “overly dramatic. Alec, you’re a hero.” Like Magnus, many of the leading downworlders from New York which Alec had gotten to know recently were a lot more cooperative than the Clave presented them to be.

And then there was always Magnus. Accepting humiliation from the clave (what choice did he have?), but not from his boyfriend. If Alec meant to be with Magnus, he would have to start vouching for his own beliefs right now. Jace had given him the chance to do it.

Magnus.

Magnus. He was so full of Magnus that he could not function. Luckily, he’d given his first orders already. Now he was waiting for something. Something he wanted to do. Yes, he wanted to do something, but what? Magnus. How was someone like him even possible? Again and again, he made Alec see. Magnus ever only seemed to care about Alec’s integrity, his true self. Yes, who Magnus wanted to be with was Alec. And if that involved Clave-business, he wanted Alec to be the voice, not the mouthpiece. Alec knew that Magnus didn’t doubt Alec’s heart, but he doubted his choices. “Old habits die hard – if at all,” he thought, doubtful himself. It was a dangerous automatism to revert back to his old ways, Alec knew that. It wasn’t really what he wanted either. Part of it had been that they had been Jace’s orders, too. Bad excuse, though. Not valid.

He was just trying to comprehend his behavior, explain it. Not justify it. “Across the board, we simply deem them all to be worthless and evil, but in some of them beats a kinder heart than in all of us taken together.” Alec shook his head. No race with a tad of human blood could be either completely good or completely bad. Impossible. That was the beauty and the curse of being human at all, hosting and continuously fighting out both. “A mix of human, angel, and demon is what we are.” Shadowhunters and downworlders could be very much alike. More often than not, being ‘evil’ was a choice. A question of attitude. “ _The Clave_. _Valentine_. Some of Valentine’s old followers are even _in_ the Clave.”

“So much about us is determined by our actions, by what we choose to do or not to do.” Alec would know. _For fuck’s sake_. He hated himself when he was sulking. He wished he were ready to go, ready to head out. He wasn’t. Not yet. But he was anxious, impatient.

With regard to Magnus, whether Alec wanted him to or not, he had seen through him right from the start. Today, too. To him, it was like as if he were an open book, and although Magnus was committed to it and loved the plot wholeheartedly, sometimes, at the mere turn of a page, their story would hurt and shame him. Alec bit his lip. Had Jace gotten to Maia and the concert yet? Where was his message? Hadn’t he said he’d let him know?

In the past, Magnus had always made an effort to understand and guide him (most people were unable or unwilling to do either). And when Alec decided to lead them into a dead end no matter what, then, still, Magnus had at least cared enough to ask again even though he had said he would not ask him again, ever. Without Magnus, Alec would still be so much farther removed from his own self. Married to Lydia, certainly, forever responsible for another ruined life. Caught for good in a “strong” union “that makes perfect sense,” born out of his fearful desire to hide and get rid of “myself. I wanted to correct a flaw that shouldn’t ever be one, for the sake of what?” Magnus “and Isabelle, and Clary, and Jace, too,…anyone close to me but mom, really,” had made him see that not corresponding to the Clave’s norms did not necessarily make you unnormal or unworthy. Around Magnus, Alec snorted, ‘normalcy’ kind of was a non-existing concept anyways, and, as a matter of fact, that was awesome.

It was scary, and it was liberating. Exhilarating. It meant adventure and discovery. He no longer agreed with the idea that personal desires and family duties must be mutually exclusive in his case. No doubt, Alec’s relationship had to have been the second or third strongest reason why the Inquisitor had chosen Jace over him. For the most part, she’d wanted to show her newly gained grandson she loved him – also, she wanted him to follow in her steps. Bitchslapping Alec had been a convenient addition.

Yet again, today Magnus’s reaction had been necessary for Alec to question himself, to stop blindly following orders: voluntarily, Alec would never punish anyone for being how and who they are so long as they meant and did no actual harm, so why punish himself for being gay? Why the hell track every downworlder – _prooflessly_? Because the Clave wanted that? What they wanted was to simultaneously get rid of and reinforce their ‘other’. Yes. And to them, Alec was an other, too. A threat. A possibility for change. To them, change meant overthrow. Would they ever consider that a change of thinking was necessary, or else they’d end up destroying each other – who but they themselves would be left once they were finished with everyone else? Maybe Alec could help them along, help them change. His friends were up for it. He _had_ support.

Leading the way, Magnus had repeatedly helped him make traditions change, “especially those based on their, on _our_ , idiotic shadowhunter-ignorance and that stupid arrogance that results in people like Valentine.” Sure, he hadn’t crashed his wedding solely for Magnus, of course he’d done it for himself, too. That was true. But Magnus had been his main motivation. Him, and becoming ever more conscious of how Clary’s father and the Clave were different in degree, not really in kind.  He ought to have inferred that sooner. In a sense, Alec even had to hand it to Clary. She was living proof that it could be a good thing to be different from your parents, or to be different in general. With respect to Alec, she had definitely been one of the unpleasant onsets of his very own profound rethinking process. He abhorred the memory of when that demon outed him. “Deceeeeived,” he sighed, and closed his eyes.

He had started out hating Clary not because she came to them as a mundane, but because Jace was smitten with her instantly, and because that had meant for Jace and him to be less close. Additionally, Jace had started to just ignore _all_ their rules and laws. He had never exactly been a conformist, but that was because he hadn’t been raised to take over the Institute, “what a grim sense of humor life has, huh.” That had always been Alec’s responsibility, it had been his purpose. “A very grim sense of humor.” Via neatly fitting in, always doing the Clave's and his parents' bidding, Alec guessed he had tried to compensate for being gay, it had been something to hide behind.

For the longest time, being Jace’s parabatai had been the only way to channel his ‘forbidden’ feelings, the only male union Alec had felt safe to enter, the only male union that was officially allowed – and it was comparatively easy for a secretive guy like Alec to conceal anything going beyond brotherly love within it. When Clary appeared on the scene, though, being so close to Jace had no longer felt very good. On the contrary, it had been excruciatingly painful. Miserable, just like she’d said.

None of Jace’s flings had mattered to him, Alec realized, because they hadn’t truly mattered to Jace. And yet, going on Clary’s ilegal ‘mission’ had quickly caused them to cross paths with Magnus. After the memory incident, the warlock had tried to comfort him, but it was more than that. Yeah, from that moment on that Magnus had declared open season on him, everything had been turned upside down. Things reached a point of no return. By all means, Clary had pissed him off _so much_ with her “Blah blah, why do you always look so miserable, it must be hard to be in love with Jace when he’s straight and everything... _blah_.” Mind, it had only pissed him off half as much as it had frightened him; all of a sudden, everyone seemed to be on the verge of ruining an illusion Alec had desperately tried to maintain. For his own sake, too. “If I am that obvious, maybe Jace has understood now as well,” he’d thought, and he’d given it a shot. A fail – everything was put to rest. Well, Clary had hit the nail right on the head, and what was no big deal to her and what was okay for Izzy – and a mystery to Jace – could well have meant the end of his life as he knew it then and there.

Back then he hadn’t yet considered how that might be a good thing. To be perfectly honest and absolutely fair, what reason did he ever have to even dare think into that direction? Not one, not even during the wildest of his wildest dreams. Didn’t he know his mother? “Maryse anyone?” He loved her, but he had always known how part of his environment would react. And hadn’t the Inquisitor enjoyed rubbing it in today. And hadn’t that made Alec do something he regretted “a- _fucking_ -gain?”

Nevertheless, Clary had meant what she said, it was no big deal to her. Whereas he used to think Izzy accepted him simply because she loved him enough, because he was her brother, there were apparently places in this world where love and relationships were set no boundaries based on sex, or race, or status, or whatever. As a guy, you were allowed to love another guy. _No big deal_. Nothing wrong with that. And so for him, too, change could come. A change of thought, of heart, of life. He had had no choice but to get over Jace – crappy enough –, and it had always been a rocky path, still was, probably, “considering that I’ve pushed Lydia to the back of my mind again. And it’s not just that Magnus hasn’t been in touch since we’ve made the attacker’s identity public, since Jace named me head and since we’ve officially apologized to the downworld. I’ve not reached out to him either.” With the warlock’s help, he had been making progress, slowly, not altogether steady, but lately it had all started to feel so good. Why had he had to take two steps back after taking one forward? Why? Alec had finally felt in line with something, with someone – and now? Why could he never let himself have nice things? Why betray Magnus’s trust again? Some day, Magnus might be fed up, and Alec couldn’t even blame him.

“ _Overly dramatic_. I am a shitface.”

Honestly, Alec was not sure how to deal with any of it. He had barely figured out how to look at himself in the mirror again after “killing” Jocelyn – next to Magnus’s almost-execution the other thing he was not entirely responsible for, but then again yes –, and right now he kind of felt cursed, yeah, he felt he brought nothing but pain and misery upon his peers, lots of fucked up shit for the people he was supposed to take care of. Nice. How was he going to blow up the ground this time to make it right?

“Certainly not by wallowing in self-pity,” he thought, “and by being of use for no one. Which leads me back to…Jace?”

Impatiently, he yanked his cushion up because his back was starting to hurt. The Institute’s walls were thick and old, and he was starting to feel cold. His room might be considered plain, sterile even, but for him it had its hidden gems and comfort zones.

This niche was one of them. If you kept the massive curtains closed, you might even escape nosy sibling-intruders, at least sometimes, if it was your lucky day. Tonight, they were all out and about; Izzy was likely showing this British guy, Sebastian – who he really couldn’t stand –, some of her favourite spots in New York. Little did Alec know she actually wasn’t, and that she was at Simon’s concert, way too close to Raphael for Alec’s taste. It wasn’t that Alec didn’t see how Raphael felt guilty for what he’d done to his sister, but he’d have to do a whole lot more than just help them out on their missions to redeem himself.  And Jace… Alec checked his watch and his phone. It was past 11 already, and still he had no new messages. He should long have taken care of Maia by now – little did Alec know things were the other way round... Or maybe the fact that he hadn’t messaged Alec yet meant that Magnus hadn’t bothered to show up downtown.

Alec closed his eyes again and reached out for Jace’s vibes.

Jace was clubbing. That almost caused Alec to smile. It was so much like Jace – any authoritative day was an authoritative day too much. Things had to be balanced out. No last name in this world would be able to stop Jace from being Jace.

Alec could tell there were fierce rhythms and liquor involved if he focused on his parabatai hard enough. Maybe even sex. He was not up for Jace’s escapism, though. Compared to what had happened between him and Magnus, right now Jace had luxury problems. By some miracle, Valentine was not his father, so he wasn’t Clary’s brother ‘anymore’, and he had finally uncovered some truth about his past. He was a Herondale and would always be a Lightwood, and that wasn’t so bad. Ah, and ‘poor’ Simon was a ridiculous person in so many ways, and Alec more than anyone was utterly aware that Clary would not be able to suppress her feelings for Jace forever, no matter how badly she wanted to do right by her vampire friend. He supposed Simon was nice enough for a mundane-vampire crossover, cheerful, always ready to make an unnecessary joke. Alec saw that girls liked that, but he himself wasn’t really known for his exceptionally good sense of humor. Regardless, there was no way Clary could talk herself into loving Simon _like that_ much longer. Being parabatai, a part of him had experienced first-hand what Jace had felt, and he had shut up about it when it all had been impossible. Jace’s heart had been broken, too. Not much longer… Actually, Jace’s aura was surprisingly happy at the moment.

Well, the vampire certainly adored and felt a lot for Clary, but Alec knew exactly how he, or bloody Raphael or bloody Meliorn or bloody Sebastian or bloody anyone, looked at his sister – a look he did not appreciate much either. They said his sister was a force of nature, and from what Alec saw, he was pretty sure she would happen to susceptible Simon sooner or later. Who would have thought that the Lightwood children of all people were all about the downworlders?

Normally, he would _of course_ have felt pity for Jace. Inevitably, he always shared his pain, but since Jace seemed to be doing fine enough to forget his promise, Alec thought it was fairly ok to leave him be. If that was what Jace wanted and needed, he should have it. With regard to all of them his prognosis was that time would reveal loads of solutions to very few problems.

By the angel, he was so angry with himself, and he felt so ashamed. And helpless, since he had no actual words, just thousands of thoughts doing a non-stop 360. Not too long ago, his feelings had been mainly a mixture of shock and relief. Realizing Valentine was actually Magnus and Magnus was Valentine had not left them much time for thinking, with the Inquisitor being on the brink of executing _Magnus_ and Valentine on the run. Basically, action had prevented the truth of the matter from sinking in up until he and Magnus, restored to his own body, got to sit on the warlock’s couch. Alec had not known what to do or what to say. They’d cuddled up together, and Magnus’s silent suffering had kept reinforcing Alec’s sense of guilt. But they hadn’t spoken much. It was never his strong suit, talking. Unless you meant to talk shadowhunter business and lethal missions. Despite desperately wanting to let Magnus know he understood exactly what it felt like when your own body was violated by a curse, he could not bring himself to speak up just yet. He was working on it, he was getting there. It was just that Magnus was hurting very badly, and Alec was too aware of his own part in Magnus’s pain. He was afraid he’d act up, and he generally wasn’t sure if Magnus wanted Alec around at all right now. His Clave-performance had given Magnus the rest, Alec was sure of it.

When he’d made his one and only statement about the impact of the agony rune, Magnus had been staring into nothing, at something or someone long gone, eyes blank. Never before had Magnus’s eyes looked dead when they were unglamoured. Normally, without the glamour they were at their most vibrant. Witnessing Magnus’s pain hadn’t been far from being branded with that rune himself. If anything, it had been worse. But his mouth remained shut because a not-so-friendly reminder let him know that, besides allowing Magnus to be tortured, Alec had also been the one to drag him into the execution chair. And he had shoved him against a wall, had threatened him. Oh yes, Alec felt amazing. Not. Had he mentioned the hair and the paper bag yet?

Throughout their still-young relationship, he had relied on Magnus. On his eloquence, on his self-confidence, on him approaching and encouraging him again and again. Even though Magnus had often said to him that he was just as shaken and unsettled by Alec and their situation as he knew Alec surely was, he had concealed it very well. Alec sighed. Looking up at the moon, it pulsed and shuddered through him again that that was because Magnus had been sure of one thing: Alec. When tearing down those walls that were a century thick, he had somehow already determined Alec was worth it. Alec knew it was true and yet couldn’t help twisting his mouth – him and 17 thousand others. Alec had done the maths more than once. Subtracting some generous 16 years, Magnus had been dating people for about 384 years. Let’s just say, obviously there must have been plenty of one night stands involved – even he was with him for more than eight days now. “Push that aside, don’t do him injustice,” he warned himself, “it’s muddled enough as it is.” He knew Magnus well enough to see that, apart from maybe Camille, he had rarely truly felt at ease, let alone at home with someone. Seen from this angle, Magnus must have lead a very lonely life so far, multiplied by more than 16 thousand people. All the same, something in him had left it all behind and had chosen to try again with Alec. His insides clenched. _He missed him_ , and he hated to disappoint him.

Evidently, rationality and reason aside (Alec did not think he knew much about love just yet, even so he was sure that reason does not go very far where love comes into play), Magnus’s trust was, Alec guessed, smashed to bits when he had done to Magnus what he had done.

Magnus had been locked up doubly: in Valentine’s body and in the Institute’s cellar. What it must have been like for the warlock to reach out to the one he loved without success, Alec couldn’t begin to imagine. He’d been fighting for his life, trying again and again to break through to him, all the while staring into Alec’s eyes, cold, hateful, disgusted. It would have ended in his death if Valentine hadn’t interrupted, and despite everything, Magnus’s last words would still have been, Alec swallowed, “ _Alexander, please_.” With an unsatisfying thud, his fist hit the window glass. “Hey,” he thought, “hey, I’m Alec, the Clave’s mindless puppet on a string. Nice to meet you.” Not anymore.

It tasted extremely bitter that Magnus himself was likely trying to rationalize Alec’s behaviour, because Alec was quite sure it could not work. That’s the thing when you are and aren’t to blame: the outcome is negative in either case. Plus, you blame yourself. “Enough. Stop. Overthinking. You’ve been at that point already. Forward.” Always always always, these words resounded in Izzy’s voice, and he knew that she was right. Whereas she might be a little bit too impulsive, he clearly thought too much, was too careful, and neither of them was doing too well with that. The middle ground must be nice, he thought. “Max, hopefully.” Although Max came after Isabelle, he suspected, and that was why he wanted her to teach him. She knew herself best, and she might be better at emphasizing with their younger brother’s thoughts. It would make both of them grow. Alec would never have broken out of the Institute like that – he simply couldn’t understand what had driven Max to do it.

Disgusting chills ran down his back any time it hit him that it had really been Valentine whose face he had cupped with his hand that day, that it had been Valentine who he had folded into his arms. And, believe it or not, it hit him often.

Suddenly he was repulsed by the pillow’s soft fabric pressing into his back, so he removed it. A frosty stone wall was much more fitting. Frosty like Alec; Alec Lightwood who had shown Magnus Bane – a scared, tortured Magnus – multiple sides of himself the warlock should never have gotten to know. Never. As best as he could, Alec had tried to reconcile the idea of Valentine’s face alight with Magnus’s soul. It was absurd and obscene to switch these two people, to fuse bits of the one with the other. “ _And still I should have realized…_ ” The one you love caught in the body of the one you hate most. He was still going in circles: call it what you want, Alec felt he kept failing and betraying Magnus, and now that he had had so much time at his hands to think ceaselessly about everything that had happened, it was no longer a surprise to him that all Magnus had responded to his plea with had been silence and a raptured breath. Or that he’d thrown him out today.

There likely was nothing Magnus knew Alec could do to fix this. And if there was, how could it be Magnus’s task to tell Alec what to do?

What he had not yet been able to say to Magnus either was that he thought he could now understand how the warlock was able to say that Alec’s ageing would never cool his attraction for him. A body, as beautiful or handsome as it may be, is nothing but a shell. It is always the inside that counts. And Alec had fucked up at seeing through that one shell, had chosen to ignore all the clues. It did not help either that Jace had warned him about Valentine, that his brother had cast aside his doubts. Jace could never have known enough to be a proper judge of the situation, and technically Alec had known that. Jace wasn’t to blame, he, Alec, should have put the pieces together – Magnus acting strange, and Valentine claiming he was not Valentine, and so on. Had Valentine cried for his mother during his hearings? Alec somehow did not think so.

Magnus never liked to speak of his mother or his past in general, which was why Alec knew only little. He guessed she was a reason for his sadness. That Magnus preferred to remain silent wasn’t exactly okay with him, but it was something that would and should naturally evolve with time, not overnight. It was something Alec could accept for the moment. What mattered was to help Magnus through this and apologize for his behavior earlier. Alec did not want to lose him. “Even if you’re doing a poor job at demonstrating that.”

Eventually, he rose up and considered to go looking for Jace, maybe have a drink, too. Pretty much immediately he scrapped the idea. Chances were drinking would make him worse. He checked his phone. Nope, no messages. That was not a bad thing per se, because it also meant that nothing too dramatic was going on in New York right now. Alec, the new head of the New York Institute, closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled.

“ _Inhale_.”

“ _Exhale.”_

Jace was either drunk or getting laid (or both), so, strictly speaking, he was no option. A little reluctantly, he decided to message Izzy instead.

“Izz, I only just found out I got to leave the Institute and run a paramount errand (you haven’t spotted Magnus anywhere, have you?). I’ll put you on attendance for minor Institute business if that’s okay? Please be ready and prepared in case of an emergency. Let me know if anything very serious comes up and I’ll be there to help (yep, that’s an order). Have a good one, A.”

Should he text Magnus? Would he answer? “Don’t make it too complicated, Alec, just get going,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed his jacket. Hastily he scribbled a note for the shadowhunters on watch duty and left it on _his new desk_. No, sending Magnus a message was not necessarily a clever thing to do. In mutual agreement, they had decided that they would keep a low profile concerning their cell phone conversations (unsurprisingly, Alec was the one to stick to that much more rigorously). If information got into the wrong hands, disasters might happen. “Yaaaah, they happen anyway…” And here he had another formerly ignored reason why Valentine couldn’t have known anything detailed. Great.

The night air was nice, and it wasn’t that cold yet. Alec wouldn’t have taken one of their motorbikes one way or the other, because he usually preferred to walk. Walking helped him think, and at night, he didn’t even mind the mundanes so much. All colors agree in the dark.

“Hey Alec, sure thing. Is everything alright? Do **you** need help? What can I do? Keep in touch! I.”

“Not sure yet. Could go either way, I’ve fucked up today. Will update you. I hope everything will be all right. Be careful. A.”

“Hey, sorry I’m late - my good looks interfered. The air is clear, there are no potential targets around. I’ll let you know. J.”

As he crossed Brooklyn Bridge, Alec decided he had to give Magnus a choice. Intruding seemed wrong, he was walking on delicate ground anyway. He found a nice spot in the park, sat down on a bench, and started looking at the screen of his phone. For ten minutes. He wasn’t having any revelations. And the couple eating each other’s faces somewhere nearby in the shadows didn’t do much for him either. Magnus. How could he convince Magnus to meet him?

In the end, he took a picture of his view and forwarded it to the warlock, adding his current location. Immediately upon hitting ‘send’, he felt foolish. Near the shore and cheeping softly, a duck family of five or seven huddled together, Alec couldn’t tell from afar and didn’t want to go any closer or else he’d frighten them. There was just enough light to make out they were there at all. It was a nice sight, without doubt, but Alec felt sheepish. What else to do but wait, and think about Valentine and a single black hair in a paper bag. Suddenly, he was not at all sure anymore that Magnus would come and meet him. “Hey hey, not here,” giggled the girl. Embarrassed and unintentionally jealous, he shifted his gaze down to his feet. Somehow, feeling lonely had been more bearable before he had gotten a taste of what things could be like.

After half an hour, he officially congratulated himself on his stupidity, and got up. Maybe he _should_ go looking for Jace and join the party. Maybe he’d have some fun? Alec kicked away a piece of wood, because he knew fully well he was making contemptuous fun of himself. His reasons were the same as before. To enjoy a drink, he had to be relaxed, and Alec wasn’t the sort of person that was able to relax in a room so stuffed with sweaty strangers you could barely move. “Who sends a picture of blurry ducks from Brooklyn Bridge Park after an argument? And without comment?” He did, apparently.

The sudden, soft vibration of his phone startled him. Nervously, Alec span around. If you knew him well enough to be allowed a gaze at his phone when it made itself noticed – well, then you knew that it only ever vibrated for the High Warlock of Brooklyn. A ‘precautionary measure’. Izzy found it was hilarious, but she didn’t unveil his secret (hush hush, nobody knew!).

“I’m all for a duck test, but I’d rather not carry it out in Brooklyn Bridge Park. My door is open.”

Without hesitation, Alec got going. He didn’t need to be asked twice. A duck test?


	2. Chapter 2

It took him less than fifteen minutes to turn up at Magnus’s place. The lounge room was lit-up, but the warlock wasn’t in there; he was standing on his balcony, leaning on the railing. It wasn’t unlikely he’d been watching Alec arrive, maybe he’d even looked at him when he still sat in the park. He put it past Magnus to spy on him, but if he’d convinced himself he’d done it to check on Alec, to see whether he was okay – whether his stupid message was something more serious, he considered it possible. It didn’t matter. He trusted Magnus. Instead of fighting the urge, he complied with his impulses. Already while approaching him, he raised his voice: “Magnus, you were right.” Magnus turned around, and Alec could see hurt, but also love. Forgiveness. He continued:

“You never have to prove yourself me.”

Magnus looked up at him and nodded. Alec stepped closer, taking his hand. Into it, he slipped the paper bag.

“I love you,” he said. The corner of Magnus’s lips twitched. Not into a smile, but with recognition. The warlock swallowed, and then Alec felt the small of Magnus’s hand on his left cheek. It made his face tingle.

“I love you, too.” And with that, Magnus drew Alec in for a kiss.

“A duck test?” Alec asked.

Magnus half smiled, and Alec was a little surprised with him. He didn’t seem angry anymore at all, which was a bit odd. The shadowhunter had noticed the taste of alcohol in Magnus’s mouth. That wasn’t unusual…and that didn’t necessarily mean something.

“Right,” said Magnus: “Let’s see… Overall, you’ve given me mixed signals, especially today. But right now…” he took a step away from Alec and started to circle around him. Alec leaned against the stone rail and raised an eyebrow. “…well, you look like Alexander,” then Magnus was close to him again, pressing his nose to his neck, “you smell like Alexander…you…you kissed like Alexander, and, most importantly, you talk and behave like Alexander again.” Magnus lifted the bag. Without so much as looking at it, he cast it over the railing. “So, I think it’s fair to conclude you are Alexander.” And with that, Magnus went over to his outdoor sofa and dropped down on it.

“Right,” Alec said, bewildered, nevertheless nodding. “I didn’t go through with the DNA test, but you –”

Something hooked into his belt loops, and suddenly he found himself moving toward the sofa. “Whoa, Magnus. Don’t you think we need to talk…first?... Please?” There was another tug, but then Alec was free again. Reluctant to get be too near to Magnus just yet, he chose to sit on the chair.

He chose to give them some space.

“Magnus,” he took a deep breath. “Magnus, you always urge me to talk to you and to not push you away when things become difficult. Thing is, you have to talk to me, too. I… I…” Finding a nice way to say it wasn’t going to happen, so he had to just spit it out in whatever way it would come to him.

“Can you ever forgive me? What can I do? Did you pick up yet on all that happened today? I mean, first Jace was announced head, but then Izzy completed the mission and Jace chose to give the position to me,” Alec smiled. “Now he’s defying the Madam Inquisitor as well, but what do I care? He’s right. Clary was attacked by the same seelie who killed all the other shadowhunters, but Simon got to her in time. She’s fine,” he added quickly (he failed to notice that Magnus didn’t seem worried), “but the Inquisitor made Jace lock Simon up, because he refused to leave Clary…and Jace cooperated with her and supported her. They’re out again, both he and the werewolf girl I mean. Jace is confused... I mean, you know, you were there, too, when he found out. About him being a Herondale and all, yeah, he’s confused…” Was he making sense?

“Hey,” Magnus interrupted him softly, “where are you going with this? What am I supposed to say? I already know what happened to Clary and how Jace was chastened, mainly by her and dear Maia, but still. I spoke to Isabelle about all that happened at the Institute.” Alec frowned, he was baffled. “Yes, your sister called me. And curiously enough, Jace sent me a text. They both tried to give me some sort of very, very subtle hint.”

“That’s,” Alec cut in, “wow that’s not, - they shouldn’t have done that.” He felt overlooked in a bad way.

Magnus sighed. “Don’t blame them. I don’t. At least they communicate in actual words, not in dim pictures,” he winked. “Forget that, I loved the ducks. I think they’re much more expressive. Once again, generally speaking you’ve proved a late- _ish_ bloomer, Alec. But I think you reversed soon enough. And now the Institute is in good hands,” Magnus corrected himself, “in the best.”

“Still, you were angry because I had," Magnus shook his head, "well, because I followed my orders and –,” anew, the warlock shook his head, and Alec stopped.

“Yes, Alec. And no. I wasn’t angry, it made me sad. I felt let down. You keep doing that thing where you just listen to the Clave without calling what they want from us into question, and it hurts. But look at you _right now_ and how you’ve ended the day. You’re so young, you’re still becoming, and therefore you’ve still got every right to make mistakes and develop and learn. You’re nascent, Alec, and that’s a wonderful thing. What I must not forget is that you’ve not even seen and experienced half of what I have…not that I would want you too, most of it was – nevermind,” Magnus shifted over to sit on the table. Now their legs touched. “You’ve only been out for a couple of weeks, and we’re still new to each other.”

Magnus put a hand on Alec’s thigh and Alec twitched a little. So often, he wasn’t sure if it was one of the warlock’s sparks or simply his regular reaction to unexpected touch.

“It would be nicer if you allowed yourself to make your own mistakes, though. Your biggest problem is usually that you don’t listen to yourself. At least that’s what I think, Alexander. In your case – aren’t you aware of how and who you are – it is bound to be a big mistake not to listen to yourself. As you are, you’re certainly a good shadowhunter and you really believe you serve your people when you follow the Clave’s orders – which isn’t entirely wrong. What I and your friends believe and hope is that you’ll be without compare and someone with the potential to make everyone look up to you once you’ve started to trust _not only_ what’s in here…” Magnus reached up to Alec’s head and gently ruffled through his hair. He took his time. Alec knew Magnus knew it made him nervous. Accordingly, he started to swallow: hard. Magnus was looking straight at him. Alec found it difficult to hold his gaze. His head felt all fuzzy, his heart was racing. When Magnus’s fingers got to that spot behind his ear, lightning struck in his tummy. After he realized he had been holding his breath, he found he had to force himself to pick up breathing again.

“That’s it, Alexander,” the warlock said, and put his palm on Alec’s chest. “That’s what you must trust _as well_. Only then can you be true to yourself.”

Alec closed his eyes and grabbed Magnus’s wrist. He needed the other to tear away for a second, or he’d be unable to collect his thoughts.

“I should have known it was you, Magnus. I’m sorry. I almost let her kill you. _I_ almost killed you. All I want is to protect you, even today I thought for a moment what we did would be to protect you and the downworld. But I keep putting you in danger. I could have killed you.” Magnus understood and withdrew. He crossed his legs and folded his hands, then he answered. His words sounded well considered, composed, factual:

“When you’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn, your life is never exactly out of danger. If I hadn’t gotten locked up in Valentine’s body because of providing a service for you and your friends, then I might have turned out to be stuck in another life-threatening situation. The downworld is no safe place, and the more powerful you become,” he wiggled his head, “the more they want to stab you in the back. And if you’re not careful…of course, I am extremely careful…”

“That doesn’t change anything. I didn’t recognize you.”

“You didn’t. And…it was awful. I wouldn’t want it to happen again. Nothing else to say about that. But blame you? Come on,” Magnus shook his head, “remember that one time Valentine deceived Jace and pretended he was his father just to reach Clary and get hold of the cup? Valentine is unpredictable and highly capable. A dangerous mix. Even if I wanted to, not believing me I wasn’t Valentine – that’s nothing I could ever blame you for. With regard to that, there’s nothing you need my forgiveness for, but I will say I forgive you if it’s what you need to feel better. The question remains: can _you_ relate to what I just said and forgive you?”

It didn’t make Alec feel better. He answered Magnus question with a half-hearted shrug.

“Alexander. I’ll say it again: we mustn’t forget that we’re still new to each other and that there’s bound to be more history to me than to you. You can believe me when I say I sympathize with your uncertainty. Although my emotions would never agree, my head tells me that you must be much more confused by the overall package that is Magnus Bane than I could ever be by you – it isn’t so, you’re very, very much beyond compare –…well, my life has been longer than yours, and maybe more complex. But that’s the thing with love: sometimes, feelings grow before you really know who the other person is, what their best and weakest sides are. I’m a warlock, and even I will say that falling in love is about the most magical thing that can happen to anyone, no matter how it happens. It hasn’t happened as often to you,” Alec made a thankless noise. “I know. I know. I don’t feel like going _there_ either…not right now, not with you here right in front of me.” Magnus fell quiet for a second. Then he said: “You really are unique, Alexander. You have to stop beating yourself up because you didn’t recognize me, but you could make it a starting point for following your gut next time.”

Alec’s pulse was throbbing in his ears. Magnus made him nervous when what he really wanted to do was focus.

“What did the agony rune make you relive, Magnus? Can you…would you tell me at least that? No, I don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, I just feel like,” he inhaled sharply, “I feel like…Maybe, if I _did_ know more about your history, had known you better, maybe it wouldn’t have happened that way. Please, tell me something… I want to… I want to know all about you at some point – I need to, actually. I –. I feel such a sharp need to know all the things nobody else knows, and I hope if I did, then we could prevent something like that from ever happening again. I need some, I mean. I –”

Magnus rose. Although he made an effort to straighten his posture, he somehow was stooping. It made Alec regret his stubbornness – almost.

“I don’t want you to think I’ve enjoyed all those times I’ve left you hanging when you were trying to go somewhere I’m not,” he corrected himself, “I wasn’t comfortable going...yet. I’m willing to work on it, too. No, don’t look at me like that, Alexander, please.” He turned and made for the loft. “You have a point. We’ve dealt with Maryse.”

Magnus didn’t stop talking to Alec while he was stepping inside. His “and apparently tonight is when we’ll deal with _my_ mother,” was barely audible to Alec. So he got up and followed. With a flick of the warlock’s hand, the terrace door closed behind the two. This time, when Magnus patted for Alec to come and sit next to him on the sofa, Alec obliged. He was tense, scared, eager to know. Desperate, actually.

When Magnus had finished, they sat together in silence for a while. Alec’s hand was cramping, clenching around Magnus’s, or perhaps it was the other way round. Secretly, Alec loved it when the warlock wore jewellery (he could get quite distracted by it, lost even, so much he supposed there were some charms involved), but it wasn’t the nicest feeling to have so many rings dig into your skin for so long. Magnus’s mother had killed herself because her offspring was the son of a demon. Alec understood how it was because of his cat eyes, and still it was inexplicable to him how such handsome eyes could have set her off. Yeah, it must’ve been a shock to her, but on the other hand she could at least have given the little boy a chance. From what he knew, many mundanes in a similar situation did. But how to judge a woman he didn’t know? And why rub salt into a wound when it wouldn’t change anything? What mattered to him was that Magnus had had to grow up all alone, with no guidance or family at all, except for perhaps the Silent Brothers (if you wanted to count them), and that was painful to even think about. Magnus, who took care of anyone in need...

“It’s awful,” Alec said eventually, “I’m sorry you had to…you have to go through that.” To bring the warlock, who seemed very much lost in thought, back to the present, Alec leaned over to him and did something he’d rarely done before: he kissed Magnus on the forehead, pulled him closer, and rested his cheek on his head. While, to Alec, it seemed like an insufficient gesture, he nonetheless put into it as much appreciation and tenderness as he could. Instantly, Magnus buried his face in his neck. Ever since their first kiss, Alec found Magnus was drawn to the rune on his neck. For some reason, it did the opposite of deflecting him. At length, Alec offered to pour them a drink. Not because he wanted one, but because he knew Magnus might. Magnus lifted his head, used Alec’s collar to wipe his eyes and agreed, “excellent timing,” he said. Alec got up and looked at the different bottles on Magnus’s liquor table. “Or do you need a minute?” he asked, not wanting to do anything Magnus wouldn’t want. “No, I think I’m fine. Go ahead.”

“In thaaaat case, what would you like me to,” Alec stopped mid-sentence and bent down to pick up a small glass phial that lay on the floor next to the little side table, “what’s that?”

“They’re dragonfly wings. Dot dropped them off this afternoon.” That explained the alcohol in Magnus’s mouth. He had a drink alone now and then, but from what Alec gathered the warlock was above all a social drinker. “I’d like a sip of what’s in that brown bottle on the far right, yes, that one, with a lot of ice. I’ll take care of the ice,” said Magnus before Alec could ask whether he’d find some in Magnus’s (often empty) freezer. For himself, Alec stuck to coke. Maybe it could help him combat the fatigue he'd started to feel.

“Why’d you throw it on the floor?” Alec wanted to know as he handed Magnus his glass.

“What exactly gave me away?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Why else would it’ve been lying there?”

“Dorothea gave it to me so I could gain back the memory of my magic. Valentine must have talked to her when he was stuck in my body. Now that I think of it… Dot’s known me for centuries, and it seems that Valentine fooled her, too.” He snapped, and in a flash the ice appeared in his glass. It started to twirl according to Magnus’s fingers’ movements. “To that,” he said somewhat bitterly, and downed the drink in one. “Mh,” made Alec in response and took a sip of his coke. “The other warlock, too,” he thought. But he didn’t say anything.

“Are you sure you want no rum in that,” Magnus asked. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied quickly. He was dizzy enough already, unable to shake the story about Magnus’s mother. Suddenly, he changed his mind and said something after all: “D’you know her very well?”

“Oh, Alexander. We were _quite_ close for a time, but that was a long ago now. I’d say we’re still close, given that we’re really familiar with each other, but we’re not what we used to be. She remains forever a dear friend to me, but I don’t regret our bygone times.”

So yes, Dot, too. “She, too, huh?” He said. And then: “I’m sorry.”

“Well, for a time we were lovers. If you still want to, I’ll tell you about it another day. For this day it’s enough, don’t you think? Although I will say again what I’ve said before: it’s all in the past and it doesn’t matter anymore. What you now know about my mother I’ve not told a soul for centuries. Thank you for listening, Alexander. Thank you for making me talk.”

“I wish I wasn’t so bad with words. I hope I could give you any consolation at all.”

“How typical of you to say something like that. You were wonderful. It’s just that I never believed Sigmund was right.”

Alec was taken aback. “Sigmund?”

“Yes. He always urged me to talk about what was bothering me. Said I couldn’t ever successfully process and get over it if I didn’t.  He was right: I mean, I’m not feeling okay when I think of it right now, but it’s much more bearable to do so for the first time since…since it happened.”

“Fair enough, that’s great,” Alec grew impatient even though he didn’t want to. “Who’s Sigmund?” He asked again.

“Why, Sigmund Freud of course. Told you guys he was fascinated by me.”

Alec relaxed and took another sip of his drink. He didn’t feel very intimidated by Sigmund Freud. He’d seen pictures.

“It’s insane that you knew all those people.”

“Tell me about it,” Magnus said, and let himself sink back into his pillows.

They fell silent for another while, both absorbed by their thoughts. Eventually, Alec yawned. It appeared his intent to caffeinate himself was failing. “Hey,” Magnus spoke under his breath, “you must be exhausted. Wanna crash here?” Alec nodded as he turned to look at Magnus. Their lips locked immediately. It was only after they broke the kiss that he noticed the warlock was sporting his pajamas already. Suddenly too tired to move much anymore, Alec slid back toward the backrest. “Tztztz,” murmured Magnus and reached for the big, fluffy yellow cushion and put it into his lap. He gestured for Alec to lay his head on it, and Alec accepted the offer. Within seconds, Magnus was caressing his head again. It didn’t take Alec very long to doze off.

 

_In his dream, he was back in the park. This time, Magnus sat on a bench to his right not even 20 feet away, but Alec only spotted him when he was about to leave. His first impulse was to feel mocked and to be angry. Then, he looked into Magnus’s sparkling cat eyes and Alec’s anger subsided straightaway. After everything, he had come. Walking up to him he said: “You’ve come. You’ve not given up on me yet.” Then Alec, who normally was more of a hands-off kinda guy, reached out his hand and nodded toward the gravel._

Magnus, who was still stroking Alec’s hair listened to Alec muttering in his sleep. It was awfully endearing. When he understood the purpose of the other’s movement, he caught the searching hand in his own. “Of course I haven’t,” he responded gently, “I’m in love with you, Alexander Lightwood. And I plan to never give up on you. Not ever.”

 _As such, it wasn’t the first time that they walked hand in hand together, but this time it all felt a lot more purposeful. It felt like they were going on the journey of a lifetime together, and despite wondering where they’d go from here, Alec suddenly became very cheerful. A soft midnight breeze dishevelled his hair, the air smelled rich, everything seemed to be full of promises. Yes, they’d been strolling around New York and numerous other places together – Magnus knew his way around anywhere you could possibly think of. With him, Alec always felt safe. Alec felt loved, and he felt wanted. Magnus gave him the feeling that_ **_he was worth being seen ahead of anyone in a room, and of being looked at longest.*_**

What made Alexander step out of his comfort zone was usually a mixture of the sudden, desperate impulse to do the right thing and heavy emotion. Although – Magnus preferred to think of him as exploring and expanding what he was comfortable with rather than transgressing his boundaries.

The last few days had been troubled. As a warlock, he didn’t need much sleep, but his soul (fingers crossed he still had one) needed to heal. He had no idea how to make it heal, though. His dreams were haunted by old memories. His mother, her suicide, the endless loneliness. Discovering the truth about himself. More rejection, more deaths of more loved ones… He sighed, and caused Alec to stir. Due to recent events he had, without doubt, been extremely disappointed with, yes, even hurt by Alexander, but he hadn’t blamed him for the Valentine-incident for a second. Truly, he had hoped Alec knew that. Putting a 400-year-old warlock into a shadowhunter’s head was quite the stretch, and without his demonic properties, Magnus had had to find out he was much more vulnerable the not-nice-at-all way. But Valentine’s body hadn’t felt entirely human to him. Which wasn’t much of a surprise. He’d been experimenting on it for a long time now.

Tonight, Alec had taken him by surprise. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten him to talk. It was more than that, Alec had listened.  That was something he was really good at. He just listened. And he’d not been disgusted, he’d not been overly sympathetic. He’d not pressed any further when Magnus was done. And now. The way his long, lean body turned around to nestle into him. The way his chest was heaving and lowering. Hit by Alec’s hot breath, his abdomen caught fire. It burnt right up to his heart, and Magnus felt incredibly alive. After more than a century, he felt awake again, curious and eager for what was to come. He wanted to look at the young man in his lap forever. Alexander triggered this funny sort of behavior he usually experienced with cats: he wanted to constantly caress and spoil him for the sole reward of a deeply felt purr. He wanted to go and see the world anew through his eyes. He wanted to protect him from all the hostility out there and he swore to himself he would do anything in his power to make things right this time. With Alec, it could work. He was special. He was unique. And he didn’t deserve to think it was all a game for Magnus, the flirting, the laughter, the magic. He deserved the opposite.

But besides that, neither did he. Summoning greater demons, fighting against the Circle or being confined in Valentine Morgenstern’s body wasn’t exactly a fun game, and being with a shadowhunter who was still finding himself wasn’t without risk _at all_. His good humors seemed to cover his anxieties too well sometimes, something a creature so upright and genuine like Alexander couldn’t always see through. He got why Alec was jealous, but, really, Magnus’s heart had been broken more times than most people’s hearts…and yet he’d never stopped believing that somewhere out there, one day, there would be somebody willing to love him back the way he did love them. Just, why a shadowhunter? They were the least attractive race if you weren’t one of them, oh-so angelic, always on a mission to save the world. Mostly, they were stiff and starchy, and literally resistant to progress. Oh, and they were very eager to keep the downworld separated and under control, always looking for ways to preserve their unjustified dominance via their bosom friend, _the_ _Law_. Now, Magnus reckoned Alexander was raised to represent everything they stood for, good and bad. Even though he’d never felt 100% in accord with it, it still was all he’d ever known. By all means, Magnus understood Alec’s fears. Thoroughly so. He’d been afraid some of them might turn out to become true if Alec decided to give them a chance.

But no matter how exceeding his self-control was, there would never have been a true way for Alexander to change who he was – and frankly, Magnus thought there shouldn’t be –, and so, one way or another, at some point he’d have been bound to come into conflict with his own nature and the world of shadowhunters. Alec was gay _and_ Alec desperately tried to satisfy whatever expectations others had for him, because he thought their wellbeing was more important than his. Even if he had married Lydia in order to meet the one wish, he would never ever have been able to reconcile it with what Magnus thought he knew had to be one of the innermost desires of any ensouled being: pursue, find, and live out love.

Luckily enough, there was a younger, more modern generation of shadowhunters who seemed as tired of and fed up with the Clave’s traditionalism as they had every reason to be, and they were on Alexander’s side.

With another flick of his wrist, they rematerialized in his much more comfortable box-spring, where Magnus drifted off to sleep feeling a lot more at peace than he had all week. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Alexander. Alexander, whose lips were slightly parted, whose dark hair was all messy. Going by the subtle flush on his cheeks, he was fast, fast asleep.

*Quote from The Bane Chronicles


	3. Chapter 3

They were transferring Valentine from the Institute. It was better that way. He’d just made the arrangements, and was now more than ready to call it a day. He’d not even been able to say goodbye to Magnus because of how their meeting had been interrupted. After things had been settled, apparently, Magnus had already left. At least when Alec went looking for him, he’d been nowhere to be seen and no one knew where he was. What an interesting start it had been. He admired Magnus’s openness with the others. He was really willing to work together with everyone and he did it so easily. Truly, the prospect of not seeing him anymore made Alec feel a little bit sullen.

 _Valentine_. He suspected that, if he didn’t keep his very own, or at the minimum his siblings’, eyes glued on him 24 hours a day, there would be loads of people at the ready to give killing him a shot – and if Valentine were to be assassinated illegally on his watch, well, wouldn’t that forever mean the end of any Lightwood leadership with respect to this Institute. Or any institute. Yep, Alec was sure of it. Besides, there was other business to take care of first. In the end all surely would revert to the Circle and Valentine, very simply because he believed that together they were going to defeat them.

Also, he still didn’t trust Sebastian (who’d just knocked at his door to _wish_ a quick goodbye – why he would do that was a mystery to Alec). Something was off with him. He wanted it to be the accent, but that explanation seemed too easy. With one last look around, the new head of the New York Institute switched off the lights in his office. Now, he’d finally go eat something and then make straight for his bedroom, get changed and give Magnus a call. The least he could do was to thank him voice to voice.

Walking through the corridors to the kitchen, he thought about how they had no idea who’d facilitated Luke’s assault, not yet. So yeah, if he was going to unite the New York downworld, stuff like that just couldn’t happen. They needed to find out who it was. Deep down he knew a strong union against Valentine was of prime importance, but ostensibly there were quite a few who disagreed. He heard the whispers behind his back. Lots of scepticism – for him and for his ideas. It wasn’t nice, but it also was nothing he had not expected, things would need time. Unfortunately, the Clave might complicate matters further. And the seelies had something cooking. Damn it, he’d rather only deal with Luke and Raphael. The seelie queen was just vicious – but also very, very powerful.

A valuable ally.

Withal, it could have gone a lot worse, and it could’ve gone a lot better. Meliorn had been relatively sympathetic, quite open-minded actually. Magnus was with him, so much was clear. And for Izzy, Alec grimaced, Raphael would get a grip on himself. Luke… Alec wasn’t so sure if he shouldn’t have awarded some sort of punishment. People might question him even more. The thing was, Luke and Valentine had been parabatai. Alec knew what it was like when he and Jace had one of their disagreements, and therefore he wondered how Luke must feel. He’d lost not only his parabatai, but also his old life, his family and his, Alec supposed, secret love. Valentine was at the center of all that; where once had been the constant, loving, reassuring presence of someone closer than a brother, there now was emptiness (personally, Alec couldn’t picture life without Jace anymore). Even more emptiness for a werewolf stemming from a shadowhunter family. He felt sympathy for Luke. Perhaps he deserved punishment, but this time it probably had been better to put mercy before justice. Probably.

In the kitchen, he almost bumped into his mother. They made use of the moment to exchange a few more kind words and have a quick dinner together. He felt they were on much better terms than a few weeks ago. ‘Funnily’ enough, his mother was experiencing a change of heart. He’d not seen her so proud – so emotional – or so broken in a long time, perhaps never. Alec felt one of these rare waves of desperate boyish affection for his mom surge up as he looked at her picking at the food. He contemplated her face and her tense posture, wondering if her’s and his’ aura were the same when they were miserable. If so, that would explain a lot, he thought, unsure whether he’d ever truly been able to relate to her the way he was now. Nonplussed, he wondered: “Will this make us grow _together_ as a family?” It seemed paradoxical, but he got the impression that yes. He, like her, was disgusted and disappointed with his father, but for some reason there was no hatred; all he could think of was that he hoped Izzy would be okay when she found out. He hoped his mom would be okay. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t have said so before but now he thought maybe it was the right thing for their parents to separate – whatever they considered best for them was what he’d try to support. This night was no night to talk about that, though. They talked about Jace, Clary and the seelies instead, about how Jace had been acting a little weird. Maryse loved Jace like a son and she’d noticed it, too. The only conclusion they arrived at was that something must have happened at the court. Indeed, those seelies were a piece of work. He offered to walk her to her room and, once arrived, Alec excused himself, told her he was going to sleep, too, and kissed her goodnight.

Right upon entering his room, a strange sensation hit him. His parents were wiped off his mind immediately. Something was different, it was as if he weren’t alone. Neither Isabelle nor Jace had come into his room without letting him know first for years. Anyone else had no business doing so as a matter of principle, except maybe... “Max?” he thought. No, his little brother would long have pounced on him. Question was: who had been in here and why? Were they in here still? He drew a vision and a soundless rune but, scanning the room, felt his eyes turn into slits anyway. His fingers were ready to deal with any unwelcome intruder, itching to use his bow.

The first sign were the closed curtains. He was sure that he’d left them as well as the window open this morning. He usually did because he appreciated having some fresh air to breathe in the night. The second was a hardly visible trail of glitter. _Magnus. Again?_ He remained suspicious. Alec tiptoed past the drawer and approached his window-niche. Poised to attack, he pulled the curtain aside.

Over him washed instant relief.

“Magnus we’ve got to stop –.” The warlock, who’d been standing by his window for the Angel knew how long raised a finger to Alec’s lips. Then he muttered a spell Alec had heard him cast quite a lot lately. For a second, a bluish-silvery wall within the wall seemed to materialize. They watched it melt into the stone. Then his door lock clicked. Apprehension flickered up in Alec’s eyes, cockiness in Magnus’s. Both knew: until Magnus lifted that spell, people would go by this room taking no notice of it. And for the unlikely case that anyone should try to come in, the door would hold.

“Mr. Lightwood,” Magnus’s head hinted at a curtsy, “how kind of you to attend this emergency meeting.” All disapproval aside, Alec was hooked.

“My pleasure, Mr. Bane,” he joined in, “I must have missed your text. But you are lucky, I’m free for the rest of the day…and the night.” The warlock’s face was positively glowing with mischief, but he had fallen quiet. “You, ah, up for trouble? Or something?” Alec asked (a redundant question), swallowing half of the words. He couldn’t help but smile one of Magnus’s favorite smiles as he leaned in to smack a welcome kiss on Magnus’s lips.

“Close your mouth, Mr. Lightwood, would you? Or don’t, because you, my dear, are giving me ideas.” Compared to what was going on inside them, their first few kisses were pretty civilized, slow. They were about arriving, about reassuring each other. They’d started doing this only recently, surprising the other with their presence at unexpected times. Yet, since one of them was the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the other a shadowhunter as well as the leader of the New York Institute, they usually had to calm the surprised one down from the negative anxiety first – and replace it with the more enjoyable kind. It was just that, if they didn’t make time for each other somehow, very often there was none. Alec had his hands full with the Institute, and Magnus had just as many clients as ever. Nevertheless, neither of them was willing to put up with being away from the other for too long.

At length, they paused. Alec took Magnus’s face into his hands. “It’s nice to see you here,” he said, “but maybe we should stop the sneakiness.” Too heated up for it to be absentminded, he allowed his fingers to trace Magnus’s extravagant earrings. What was it with his jewellery?

With a smirk, Magnus pressed a kiss to Alec’s palm – “my pleasure, Alexander” – and hooked his hands into his boyfriend’s jacket to help it slip off his shoulders. Next, his fingers danced alongside the buttons of Alec’s shirt. “I like the blue,” Magnus said as, one after the other, the buttons popped open. “But I believe it’s better to remove this shirt,” he suggested, leaning a bit to the left, “It’s necessary for the sake of total transparency, don’t you agree?”

“Ah, yeah,” Alec was already stammering, “transparency.” Recently undressed, he felt even hotter _[no pun intended]_. By some miracle, he managed to return the favor, but before Magnus could get started with his trousers, Alec gave in and let go. Driven by impulse and sudden urgency, he crowded the smaller man against the glass, eager to start making out again.

“Any novel shadowhunter decision the downworld is to know about?” Magnus cooed, ducking his head just enough to prevent Alec from completing his mission. “Shut up and see for yourself,” Alec said, voice throaty, and finally closed the space between their lips. It was an open-mouthed kiss; Magnus had been about to laugh, smitten with how overwhelmed Alec was by his own fervor.

In all honesty, though, he felt he was the overwhelmed one. Alec’s kiss was fairly rough, very unrestrained and nevertheless tender. Most of his kisses were. _Perfect_. He felt fingers dig into the small of his hips, wandering up to his chest, grabbing skin as they went. His own reaction to how Alexander behaved in bed usually meant he had to tame his hunger a little to keep Alexander’s pace.

He knew it made everything so much more enjoyable and that they were only just getting started.

Alec had no idea what he did to him (literally, probably), how it excited Magnus to be part of his sexual awakening. He felt honored to be the chosen one, for being invited to accompany him on this journey. So he’d sworn to himself that he’d let the young shadowhunter discover and become familiar with his own sexual side first, that in the beginning he’d mainly try his best to meet Alexander’s desires (they were his own, anyway). He meant to guide him as best he could so they’d find out what he – what they as a couple – liked. Alec should live out what he wanted to, whenever he wanted to. “Patience is a virtue,” he thought to himself. And such a _pleasant_ one it could be. Magnus loved sex. He had had a lot of it. Alec, on the other hand, had felt too much shame in his young life to enjoy this part of himself – even when he’d been alone in his room and under his blankets, he’d repressed it all. Hearing about that had broken Magnus’s heart (and it had made him very, very angry with the shadowhunter world once more).

Shame and sex were each other’s sworn enemies.

Thus, Magnus’s initial task had been to help Alec ease into intimacy at all. How he’d completed it he didn’t even know himself; unexpectedly, one early evening it had been the younger one who’d wanted to take the sex step first. Although Magnus had been afraid it would be too early and that it might daunt rather than please Alexander, it hadn’t. It was another way in which he was different. And having his tongue in his mouth right here right now was the greatest privilege, an invaluable gift.

And extremely hot.

For a moment, he let his hands fall down and concentrated on nothing but the sensations and kissing back, allowing Alexander to take charge. He wanted him to have this, have him. _He_ did, too. He wanted Alec to have the world. He felt him shove a leg between his thighs. Both jerked at the sudden friction, Magnus gasped. Alexander was on fire. Leaving Magnus no time to catch his breath, he made use of the opportunity and resumed their kiss. Never before had Magnus thought he could find such bittersweet fulfilment in restraint and submission – that simply hadn’t ever been his style.

“Wanna speed this up?” Alec murmured against his lips. He had no idea. “Yes and no,” Magnus thought, but “why would I,” he said, taking the hint but no prisoners. “Aren’t you the one who always complains, saying I’ve unlearned to use my hands. Allow me to disagree and prove you wrong.” Swifter than he thought he would at this point, he undid Alexander’s belt and trousers. They slid down, uncovering a handsome pair of legs. “Well, maybe to lose the shoes,” he grinned, and snapped. Alec stepped out of the puddle of clothes. “Thanks,” he said, “back to business, _Mr. Bane_.” He took the warlock’s hand and manoeuvred them towards his bed. Before Magnus knew it, Alec pushed him down, crawled over him and held him pressed into the matress. Pleasure and appreciation flamed up in his eyes and started throbbing elsewhere. Alexander kissed his mouth again, short and hard, then his chin, his jawline, he licked a trail down his neck – he _bit_ his collarbone. “What is with you,” buzzed Magnus, “careful shadowhunter, you’re becoming too reckless.”  With that, his hand found what it was looking for. He gave Alec a gentle squeeze, which caused his limbs to buckle and made him utter an unscheduled moan. Softly tracing already quite noticeable contours, Magnus searched for and caught Alexander’s gaze. It was wide and clouded at the same time.

“Alexander, whenever anything feels so good you want it to continue, just say so. Remember, we have all the time in the world,” Magnus said, suddenly very serious; simultaneously, he snuck his other hand into Alec’s boxers. “There’s no rush.” He knew Alec loved it when Magnus payed attention to his butt. And wasn’t he happy to oblige?

“What?” Alec answered, wiggled free and lost no time to take off his shorts. He sat back on his lower legs, panting, “sure. I know.”

“Come back here then, gorgeous boy,” Magnus said, sat up, and followed suit. He rid himself of whatever clothes he was still wearing. He’d changed his mind about using magic: being an experienced warlock had its advantages and right now it did nothing to help him master his desire. He was going mad for the creature in front of him. Alexander Lightwood, totally naked, cheeks flushed, with just a trace of a five o’clock shadow, eyes all intense, chest heaving (…“that hair”…), looked utterly edible. Tenderly and as slowly as he could, Magnus feathered kisses from Alec’s thighs to his belly, nibbling at the runes when he came across them.

They were sensitive spots for both.

He maintained a firm grip on to the shadowhunter’s excellently trained obliques as he ghosted over his mouth, then nose, then eyes. He was aiming for the earlobe when –. “Ah,” he groaned. Alec had found another very sensitive spot.

“Hah,” Alec’s motions caused him to breath out again harshly, almost ungracefully – but after all he was Magnus Bane. A fleeting, half-baked statement took form in Alec’s head: he _was_ always graceful, wasn’t he? “D’you say something?” Enjoying the pumping sensation, he curved a hand around Alexander’s neck to stabilize himself, searching for Alec’s eyes again. When his eyes met the younger man’s, Magnus was literally losing sight of his plan for a blissful moment. “No…t’was just a thought… that…everything about you is graceful.” Alec swallowed. “You’re so beautiful.” What Alec said resonated in every fiber of his being, his whole body listened. A single, very powerful emotion washed – pulsed – over him. Paralyzed, his vision went black, his eyes fluttered shut for a second. Too much. He’d underestimated all of this; the impact of Alec’s words, words that were a lot more powerful than any incantation Magnus had ever experienced or created. His eyes opened again, the slits widened immediately. Alexander’s face was all there was, his profile seemed at once too sharp and out of focus. He had the feeling they were soul to soul, blurring into each other. “And you, Alexander,” he managed to answer and stared at him in amazement. Equally amazed, Alec stared back, build up a firm rhythm with his hand, hungry to see Magnus like this, like as if he were wax in his hands. Magnus lifted his chin and he understood. His mouth went straight for the warlock’s Adam’s apple. He swore he could feel Magnus’s sigh strike right in his crotch.

God, thought Magnus, it all made sense now.

A few months ago, long after Camille and shortly before he and Alec had met, Magnus would have told himself to hurry and haul his warlock ass if anyone had told him he’d fall in love again, deeper than ever. Too many heartbreaks. No. Certainly. Well-meant, but no. Thank you. Goodbye. Just. No. Scared for himself, he would’ve stumbled and tripped at the idea. But Alexander… A love so different, so difficult, and so much more intense than anything he’d known so far. The sort of love he believed mortals meant when they talked about looking for the love of a lifetime. And right now, he was inclined to think it was even stronger than that. Way back, he’d hoped it was possible for him to find it such love. Now he understood why he never had; Alec hadn’t been born yet. For Magnus, of course it could only ever have been him. Part of him had known at first sight.

“Alexander,” he said under his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes," he gulped, "Alec, would _you_ want to do it this time?” Magnus’s heart was beating so hard in his chest and his throat, it was painful. He needed it. “What do you mean? Magnus, you have to stop questioning this.”

“No, I mean: would you like to _do_ me.”

It took Alexander a moment to process, and then he squeezed Magnus’s penis a tad too hard. He let go quickly. It almost hurt, Magnus had to admit (although it was alright, sometimes he had a thing for pain). Magnus bit the inside of his lip, trying to give nothing away and to keep his face. He gave Alec a reassuring smile, carefully shifted closer to sit in his lap and drew him in for a lengthy, less agitated kiss. Best to try and get back in flow. Magnus felt sorry he’d interrupted at all. Hadn’t he been the one to emphasize that they had the time to take things slow. Well, he’d gotten carried away. It was Alec who broke their kiss and placed his hands on the other’s shoulders, pushing him down into the pillows again. Gently, albeit with determination. His palms were sweaty.

“Are you saying you’d want me to? I thought you’d said you weren’t…not yet –” he started, straddling Magnus’s hips. Their erections touched and distracted them both, demanding to be back in the center of attention. It was strangely intriguing, this strange mix of familiarity and nerve-racking novelty Magnus made him feel. Right now, though, the warlock was making him more self-conscious by the second. This was going to be new territory. He felt excited, though, his body at least. His mind was sort of uneasy, but the turned-on kind.

“Just now I can’t think of anything better. So, if it’s what you want, I want it too. Very much so. Anything, Alexander.”

“Yeah,” he licked his lips. Nodded. Took a deep breath.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said again. “But now we have to shut up,” he said, looking down, “or else –”

Next thing he knew, Magnus was at him again. All over him, around him, within him. Alec noticed Magnus’s self-control was completely gone, finally. He liked it best when Magnus was so lost in the moment that he emitted these sexy – actually pleasantly prickling – blue sparks wherever they touched. “Gotcha,” he grinned into the warlock’s mouth – in that insolent and smug way that belonged to the young and those who remained young at heart only. His nervousness was blown away. Anticipation had taken over.

Later he would say “I got you,” in a very different tone. Both would. Tonight, it wouldn’t take Alec more than a few staggering thrusts to get there. What would send him over the edge and stay with him forever, though, was going to be the man underneath him. His longing, his abandonment, those frightening words, “Alexander, _please_ ” gaining new meaning in a new context. Always hooked on Alexander’s eyes, intent to take all of the other in, heart and soul, Magnus would reveal a side that was as new to him as to Alec.

That day, Alexander Lightwood hadn’t just taken the first steps toward changing the accords; he’d torn down one more of Magnus Bane’s walls for good. For a blessed moment, it was as if they’d tricked and suspended the laws of nature. Blending and rocking into each other, Magnus felt closer to mortality and Alec to immortality than either of them ever had in their life. Two people forced to lead a life which required them to constantly hide huge parts of themselves in order to shield and protect themselves found that they could come undone. At their most vulnerable, they got a first taste of the freedom and completion they were going to nurse and bestow on each other in the future.

For Alec, it was another first time. In some ways it was for Magnus, too.

But for neither of them it was going to be the last.

 

 

(Obviously.)


End file.
